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“Come here.”
She steps into the library, the pale, soft material of the dress so feminine and demure. I’m going to enjoy the easy access.
“Turn.”
The back of her dress is open, exposing all that pale skin. Tiny crisscrossing straps need to be done up by hand, perfection in the way it hints at her complex nature.
Smoothing my hand down over my tie, I order her to come and sit on my lap.
“Thighs on either side…” I run my knuckles down her spine. Her scent is a fresh burst of citrus when I breathe in. I slowly thread and buckle the straps.
Her breathing is shallow and her fingers clench around her thighs.
“It’s been a week since I touched you, since you stripped for me, and you want me to do it again right now, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Her whisper is a sweet surprise. We both know she wants me to touch her. I know I want to, but the fact she admitted it… She loves and hates the wait. And I want to drop my hand from her back and take what’s mine. She’ll be wet. My cock jerks at the thought.
“But I still don’t like you,” she says, leaning back into me a little before she stops herself. “I just…”
“Like what I do to you?”
“I don’t want to.”
“But you do. This little world of desire and need makes you feel both helpless and powerful. You don’t need to answer that. I get it.” I do up the first set of straps. “You’re helpless because you’re my slave. But it’s powerful to give me the control, knowing you’re where you want to be, doing what brings all those fantasies you never knew you had to life.”
I can almost hear her frown. “No. It’s…it should be a game. And I didn’t choose it.”
“You did choose it, you know.” I drop my hands to her waist and bring her back against me, my mouth brushing her nape. “By obeying me that night at Orb. You chose your real self.”
“But you’re using my sister to control me.”
“And you fucking love it when I make you come, when I spank you and tease you. When I feast on your pussy. You love it all. Elise is just a safety card.”
I ease back and push her up. Then I turn her and pull her close, this time facing me.
“You look perfect.”
Touching her cheek with gentle fingers, her eyes get soft and slightly unfocused, like she thinks she’s getting something from this. She’s not. I’m going to twist the knife because she’s vulnerable, and I need power over her.
Over something. Over everything.
“That’s good,” I add. “Perfect and sweet and demure is what we want. And the look on your face, we want that, too.”
She frowns. “We want?” Ivy’s gaze lowers. “I forgot. We’re going out. Part of your job or mission or whatever this is.”
“You forgot. Fuck, Pollyanna, what did you think this was?Happy times with you and me? Love? Like?” I laugh and her eyes narrow as I slide my hand down her throat, over the top of her chest to the inside of her dress where I palm a breast. “I have access, but you look like a demure doll. Almost virginal.”
I withdraw my hand.
“You’re not, are you?”
“I’ve had sex.”
“But not a lot. Although I can sense the little whore in you is starting to claw her way out.”
She flinches.
